


Gravity

by WynCatastrophe



Series: Life in Freefall [2]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars: Prequel Trilogy, star wars: all media types, star wars: attack of the clones, star wars: revenge of the sith
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi, Love, genfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:07:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynCatastrophe/pseuds/WynCatastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage angst is bad enough when everybody isn't trying to kill you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pass in Time

**Author's Note:**

> Revised for continuity and style. Continues the story from Freefall. Part two of the Life in Freefall saga.

 

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. ¬†I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

¬†

CHAPTER ONE:

Obi-Wan looked up as Anakin suddenly tensed in the pilot's seat. "Something wrong, Padawan?"

Anakin shook his head tightly. "No, Master. Just a feeling."

The tension around his mouth gave his assurance the lie. "What sort of feeling?"

Anakin looked down at the controls. "A bad feeling, Master."

Obi-Wan studied him for a moment. "Anakin, if a Master and Padawan are to make an effective team, they must communicate. If you have a bad feeling, I want to know about it. Can you tell what this one is about?"

Anakin fiddled with a knob as though he were planning to repair it. But Obi-Wan was by now familiar with Anakin's habit of looking for something to fix whenever he was troubled, and did not take exception.

Finally, Anakin said, "It's Ryn, Master. I'm not stupid, you know. I know part of the reason we're on this tour of the Core worlds right now is that you think we were getting too close, spending too much time together. I know I'm not supposed to be thinking about her. But I  _saw_ her, Master. She was lying in a pool of blood, and she was ... Master, she was  _dead._ " Anakin turned anguished eyes on Obi-Wan. "Something awful is happening back home. Ryn is in trouble. I just know it."

Obi-Wan frowned at his Padawan. On the one hand, Anakin was right, if rather uncomfortably perceptive: part of Obi-Wan's plan in initiating this trip  _now_ was to separate him from Ryn before whatever there was going on between them developed into something else, something more painful to sever. He'd like spare Anakin that, if he could. Leaving his mother had been bad enough. Obi-Wan knew he still missed her, even if he rarely spoke of it. No need to add an abortive love affair.

On the other hand, if Anakin was right ... and Obi-Wan had certainly learned not to dismiss Anakin's "bad feelings" ... then it would be wrong to do nothing and let Ryn walk blindly into whatever danger awaited her on Coruscant.

His decision made, he nodded. "Drop out of hyperspace. I'm going to open a channel to Coruscant."

Anakin's eyes widened briefly, as though he hadn't expected Obi-Wan to take him seriously; but he complied readily enough.

Obi-Wan tapped buttons and toggled switches, opening the comm channel to the Jedi Temple; but the Padawan at the comm center was unable to raise Ryn after multiple calls.

Obi-Wan hestitated, not looking at Anakin. "I see. Do you think you could put me in touch with Master Yoda?"

Obi-Wan heard the Padawan's surprise in the brief silence that echoed through the cockpit.

"Of course, Master Kenobi. One moment."

Fifteen minutes later, the Padawan was back on the line, sounding nervous. "Ah ... Master Kenobi?"

"Here," he said pleasantly, despite the growing knot of concern in his throat.

Anakin's tension, palpable in the small space, wasn't helping matters.

"I'm afraid I have been ... ah .. unabe to raise Master Yoda. Shall I contact Master Windu or another member of the Council?"

This time Obi-Wan did look at Anakin, thinking fast as he tried to figure out who might be willing to listen. Not Mace, his disapproval was noticeable whenever Orun's name was mentioned. He'd heard Ryn speak with affection of Aayla Secura, but she was on a mission; what about --

Anakin was mouthing a name.  _Gallia._

 _Oh, all right_.

Obi-Wan spoke into the comm. "Is Master Adi Gallia available?"

"Obi-Wan!" Master Gallia said, her warm tones soothing even over the tinny cockpit speakers. "How can I help you?"

"I'm not sure," Obi-Wan admitted. "My Padawan has had a rather disturbing premonition, and we are concerned for the safety of Miss Orun, but we seem unable to raise either her or Master Yoda. Can you shed any light on this matter?"

Adi looked troubled. "No," she said. "But that is certainly unusual. Ryn is too responsible to go wandering off, and it isn't like Mater Yoda not to answer his comlink. I'll see what I can find out."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, ignoring Anakin's pleading eyes and Gallia's optimistic view of Ryn's character. "In the meantime, my Padawan and I shall head back to Coruscant. We're not that far away; maybe we can do something. We haven't any urgent business, anyway."

"So it  _was_ just an excuse to separate us," Anakin said, when Obi-Wan had signed off.

"Not  _just_ an excuse," Obi-Wan countered. "You do need to become familiar with the Core worlds. This merely seemed like a particularly good time to make such a trip."

Anakin tightened his mouth as he began programming the jumps. "But  _why_ , Master? Ryn is a good person. Why is it so wrong to care about her?"

Ob-Wan sighed, watching jump coordinates flick past his Padawan's fingers. "It's not that it's wrong to  _care_ , Anakin. Compassion is essential for a Jedi, and it is right to admire beings who adhere to the highest standards of conduct. Ryn deserves both your kindness and your respect. I imagine she must be a very good friend." Polite, kind, patient: one of the most truly decent beings Obi-Wan had ever been privileged to meet. And, for that very reason, dangerous to Anakin's focus. She could so easily become a distraction ... because, in herself, she was worthwhile.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "The problem is that, as Jedi, we must deny ourselves attachments that most beings take for granted. We must surrender ourselves to the will of the Force. That means always being willing to let attachments -- people, things, it doesn't matter -- pass out of our lives."

Anakin was scowling as he punched the lever that would launch them into hyperspace. "That sounds ... cold, Master."

"It is not an easy lesson to learn," Obi-Wan said, not quite disagreeing. "It will be especially hard for you, because of the way you were raised. But it is an  _important_ lesson." He sighed. "And it's a lesson that gets harder to learn with time, not easier. I know Ryn will miss you ... but I also believe that she genuinely cares for you enough to let you go."

"I'm not sure Ryn will see it that way," Anakin said. He fiddled with the controls a little. "I'm not even sure  _I_ see it that way."

Obi-Wan found he had no answer.

When they came out of hyperspace -- too far insystem for Obi-Wan's comfort -- the comm immediately blinked, showing a message from Adi Gallia. The news was not encouraging.

"Master Kenobi, please comm the Temple when you receive this message. I have located the young woman you inquired about, but she is currently in the infirmary in very delicate condition. She has asked to speak with you, but Master Che is uncertain how much time she has left. I urge you to return to Coruscant as quickly as possible."

Anakin took the news predictably ill. Mouth set in a grim line, he whipped their small shuttle in and our of the space lanes as though training for a Podrace.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan said sharply as they flashed past a freighter, close enough to scrape paint off the hull if it had had any. "What do you think you are doing? That was  _illegal_!"

"You heard Master Gallia," Anakin responded, not slowing in the least. "She told us to get there as fast we could. I'm just trying to follow orders."

 _And I'm a mynock,_ Obi-Wan thought. "Yes, yes, Anakin, but we want to arrive in one piece."

"I'll be careful," Anakin promised, without slowing down. "We're nearly to the atmosphere, anyway. Not much longer now."

Obi-Wan gave it up. Anakin was nothing if not a competent pilot. His passengers might find the twists and turns unnerving, but there was no reason to think they wouldn't survive the trip. And Anakin was too distracted by his concern --  _Fear, Obi-Wan, call it what it_ is-- to be cowed by his Master's ire.

It was a sign of how worried Anakin was for his friend that he didn't wait to do his usual maintenance check on landing. In fact, he was out of his seat before the landing protocols had been completed, and jumped off the boarding ramp while it was still halfway up.

"Calm down, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, following at a (very slightly) more dignified pace. "Another five minutes won't make that much difference."

Anakin shot him a pained look. "Master Gallia said the Healers didn't know how much time Ryn had. It might make  _all_ the difference."

Obi-Wan frowned and hurried his own steps to match Anakin's lengthening stride. "You're not a Healer. I don't see what either of us can do, once we reach the infirmary."

"Ryn wanted us there," Anakin said, stepping into the lift. "That's all I need to know."

 


	2. Fix You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan didn't think he had ever seen his Padawan cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song by Coldplay.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars.  I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

 

 **CHAPTER TWO**

They reached the infirmary in what had to be record time, and asked a Healer in the hall where to find Ryn: in a small room at the end of the hall, near Vokara Che's workstation. It was part of the Temple infirmary Obi-Wan had never had a reason to visit, where only the critically injured were taken.

They nodded to Master Che and stepped through the door.

Even in the dim glow from the bedside lamp, Ryn looked ... bad. Her skin was a pasty, sickly white, and there was blood at one corner of her mouth. Her face and arms - every square centimeter of exposed skin -- were bruised and scored and raw. Her eyes were closed, and her chest was so still that ObiWan had to reach out with the Force to confirm that she was sleeping, not dead.

It took Obi-Wan a minute to register that the Padawan who stood as they entered was Ferus Olin.

 _Siri's ... no. Enough._

"Master Kenobi," Ferus said with a bow. "Anakin."

Anakin's eyes narrowed unpleasantly as he stared at his fellow Padawan. "What are  _you_  doing here?" he demanded, an edge of belligerence in his tone that was going to be no defense against his pain if the girl in the bed was as close to dying as she looked.

Ferus took the implied insult in stride. "I wanted to be here in case she said anything else. She hasn't been able to tell us much -- out cold, most of the time. But I thought she might wake up. And I ... she's not a Jedi, I didn't think it was right for her to be alone, if ... well, if she didn't recover."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Obi-Wan asked, staving off whatever ill-conceived comment Anakin would no doubt wish to make.

Ferus shook his head. "I was in the garden, talking to a Temple visitor. He was Force-sensitive, but he didn't feel dark ... he told me that he was born on an Outer Rim world and wasn't found until he was much too old to train. He asked me a lot of questions, about Jedi philosophy and how to achieve inner balance, mostly. I told him what I'd been taught, and he seemed satisfied. Then ... then he began to ask me about  _outer_  balance, in the Force: what it was, and how it was maintained. I told him about the prophecy of the Chosen One, and he asked me if we had any idea who it might be." The boy was more troubled than Obi-Wan could ever remember seeing him, his face tight with chagrin.

"I gave him Skywalker's name. I'm so sorry. I swear, I had no idea what he was really planning ... but I should have sensed it. If I had, she wouldn't be ..." He glanced at Ryn, stricken. "He thanked me for the information and started raving about how Anakin was too dangerous to be allowed to live. That's when this girl -- Areth'ryn, I mean -- jumped out of _nowhere_  and drew her lightsaber. He ran and we both pursued, but ... she yelled at me to go get Master Yoda. I left her in pursuit of the rogue Force-sensitive ... but that was clearly a mistake.  I should have followed my instincts. By the time Master Yoda and I found her, she was fighting  _two_  of them. We arrived just in time to see her tackle the one I'd talked to in the garden and go flying off the back of an airspeeder with him." Ferus shook his head, swallowing hard. "I  _saw_  him stab her with his lightsaber, but she kept fighting. She killed him, the one she tackled. Slashed him to pieces after he thought she was done for. But they were both falling, fast, and I caught up to them in time to cushion her impact with the Force, but it ... it wasn't enough. I  _heard_  bones breaking when she hit."

He turned regretful, haunted eyes on Anakin. "I'm sorry, Skywalker. I know... I know you were close."  If he felt any judgment over that, he kept it well-hidden.  "She kept saying your name, even when the Healers were trying to put her under, even when she couldn't ..." He broke off, choking, and Obi-Wan touched his arm lightly in support.

Anakin was less gentle. "We're  _still_  close," he snapped. "Don't talk about her like she's  _dead_. Ryn's  _not dead,_  and she's not  _going_  to die, I won't  _let_  her."

Ferus bowed his head, more in acknowledgement of Anakin's fierce pain than in agreement.

Silence fell in the room. And maybe that was why Obi-Wan could hear, now, a soft, weak whisper of a sound.

"...nobi."

From the bed.

"Keh ... no ... bi. K'no ... bi. Kenobi. Ke ... no ..."

Obi-Wan crossed the room in one long stride and put his hand to the girl's cheek, livid with bruises. "Ryn?"

Her eyelids fluttered briefly, but refused to open. "Ana ... kin. Nnnn ... dan ... ger. Danger." Obi-Wan had to strain to pick out the syllables, to hear the weak thread that was Ryn's voice.  "Protect ..." There were some noises Obi-Wan couldn't decipher, and then, directly into his mind with surprising strength and clarity:  _Anakin. Danger. Keep him safe._   Her presence faded from his mind.

On the far side of the bed, a row of indicator lights went dark and a high-pitched alarm signaled that Ryn's vitals had suddenly ceased to register.

Anakin gave a choked cry and flung himself at the bed. " _Ryn!"_

"Anakin, she's --"

" _No!_ " Anakin shouted, throwing himself on the the still, battered form. "She's not gone. I can feel her!"

He pushed Obi-Wan aside and gripped Ryn by the shoulders, shaking her. "Ryn! Listen to me! Breathe! You just have to keep breathing ... don't go, Ryn, don't go."

Something like a sob choked in Anakin's throat, and Obi-Wan flinched from the rawness of his pain. His voice sank to a whisper, pleading through the Force.  "Please don't die, Ryn. Just ... take one more breath.  _Please._  For me."

He let go her thin shoulders to cradle her face in his hands. " _Stay with me, Ryn._ "

Obi-Wan reached out a hand to Anakin's shoulder, in comfort as much as restraint. He could feel the Force gathering in the boy, filling him ... if Anakin reacted now, in grief, he might well lose control and jeopardize everything he'd worked so hard for ...

A horrible, gurgling, rasping sound erupted from Ryn's throat, down into her chest. Her eyes opened weakly and locked on Anakin's.

The rasping sound came again, with slightly less gurgle, and a mixture of blood and water burst from Ryn's mouth. She didn't have the strength to cough and clear her airways, but the Force stirred, a new gush fountained from Ryn's bloody mouth, and suddenly Obi-Wan realized what Anakin was doing. He was using the Force to clear the settling blood and water so that Ryn's lungs could process air.

There was no possible way that it could work ... but Ryn stubbornly hung on, apparently determined to go down fighting, for Anakin's sake if not her own.

"Let her  _go,_  Anakin," Obi-Wan said, trying to sound stern yet compassionate. He could  _feel_  Ryn's pain and exhaustion in the Force, her tortured struggle for another breath, another heartbeat, another instant of life.

She was going to lose.

And then the Force stirred again, something new, and power welled in Anakin and spilled into Ryn, and with the eyes of the Force Obi-Wan saw him set the full weight of his concentration on her, willing her to live, dragging her cells into action with nothing to draw on but the sheer strength of his determination.

This was wrong. It had to be wrong. It shouldn't even be  _possible_. But Ryn's eyes were still locked on Anakin's, burning in that bruised white face, and Anakin stared back, holding onto her with everything he had.

 

Her pain was awful; this was inhumane. "Let her go, Anakin! Let her join the Force in peace."

A disturbance at the door alerted him to the presence of Vokara Che. "Master Kenobi!" she snapped. "Restrain your Padawan. At once!"

Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin by the shoulders and pulled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ryn's fingers slip between Anakin's, clasping his strong, tanned fingers with her bloodstained ones. His glance flicked to her face in time to see Ryn's eyes fly wide open and her lips move silently, shaping Anakin's name.

He felt the strength of her will in that moment, the power of her simple unwillingness to quit. Her determination to stay, whatever the cost, because Anakin had asked her to.

Obi-Wan had thought, the first time he saw Ryn, that she was a beautiful girl. But now he looked at her in the Force, and she was  _radiant_ , even dying. Even fighting for life when by all rights she should have been gone into the Force already.

This was what Love looked like, in the Force.

It took his breath away.

Ferus lent his strength to Obi-Wan's and together they hauled Anakin to his feet, away from the bed.

Tears were streaming down his face, silent but unstoppable.

Obi-Wan didn't think he had ever seen his Padawan cry.

Vokara Che was working with un-Jedi-like haste over Ryn's battered -- but breathing -- body.

Ferus stepped back and looked at the bed as though seeing something new -- but Obi-Wan could not begin to imagine what.

He put an arm around Anakin's shoulders and hugged the shaking boy tightly, for just a second -- and to hell with Vokara, or Ferus, or anyone else who felt like objecting. "Come, Anakin. We need to give Master Che room to work. And we ought to contact her brother."

It certainly wasn't the Jedi way -- Obi-Wan could only imagine what Master Yoda would have to say about the kind of family attachments Ryn routinely exhibited -- but it seemed like the right thin to do, and it distracted Anakin from his misery.

A little.

He stared dully at Obi-Wan without speaking, but he allowed himself to be led out of the infirmary.

Ferus trailed after them, equally silent.

Obi-Wan made himself keep walking.


	3. Rising Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting up when you've been knocked down is the hardest thing.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars.  I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction. 

 

 

**CHAPTER THREE**

Outside the infirmary in the spacious hallways of the Temple, Obi-Wan brought them to a halt and asked Ferus whether he were aware of any contact with Ryn's family on Loreth.

Ferus said he hadn't heard of anything like that.

Anakin had been ignoring them both, wrapped in his private suffering, but now Obi-Wan turned to him expectantly and said, "Do you know how to reach him, Anakin?"

_Kit, I want you to meet someone._

He could almost feel the warmth of Ryn's smile, the glow of her affection.

_You're important to me._

Anakin cleared his throat. "I think I remember," he said.

"Then you are the logical choice," Obi-Wan decided. "Go at once to the comm and send a message off-world, to Kittral's home, or ship, or wherever you can find him. Ferus and I will attempt to find Master Yoda and consult with him." Obi-Wan's expression turned thoughtful.  "Actually, Ferus, it may be better if you stay at the infirmary, if you think you can keep out of the Healers' way ... just in case Ryn comes around."

"Of course," Ferus murmured, always the model Padawan.

Anakin couldn't stop himself from saying, "It should be me. Ryn _knows_ me. She --"

"And then who would call Kit?" Obi-Wan asked mildly. "No. Go to the comm center, and when you are done, you may report back to the infirmary and relieve Ferus -- with Master Che's permission." His expression hardened. "You did very badly in there, Padawan."

Meaning, of course, that he had lost control of his emotions. Again.

Anakin bowed. "Yes, Master."

He had expected, as someone not recognizably important, to have to wait some time before he was allowed to speak with Kit. But he reached Kit's assistant -- a fit young woman with a lot of light-colored hair and generous cleavage -- almost as soon as he'd been patched through to the Lorethan communications network, and when he gave his name, she said, "Padawan _Skywalker_? Just a minute ..." and the image blurred, faded and then was quickly replaced by a fuzzy one of Ryn's brother.

"Padawan Skywalker," he said, Anakin thought he was squinting slightly. "I apologize for the image quality. I am ... not at home. What can I do for you?"

Anakin shook his head. "Sir -- uh, Your Grace -- are you aware that Ryn has recently been injured?"

Kit's face was unreadable, but his tone was bleak. "I knew she was in trouble," he said. "I could feel it. When did it happen?"

 _You could_ feel _it?_ Anakin thought. "Last night," he replied. "Your Grace, I'm afraid her injuries are ... serious."

"I see," Kit said slowly. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"We're, uh ... we're still piecing things together," Anakin hedged, not sure how much Kit was supposed to know about the situation. "But it looks as though Ryn stumbled onto a plot to assassinate a Jedi and engaged two of the potential assassins in combat." _It's all my fault. She did it for me._

Kit gave him a searching look, as though he knew there was more Anakin wasn't telling him, like the fact that he was to blame. "I sense that there is more going on here than meets the eye," he said finally. "And I see that it troubles you. But without knowing the situation, there is little I can do to help." He paused. "Will it make you ... uncomfortable ... or put you in a bad position with your master, if I ask a favor of you?"

"I don't know," Anakin said. "I hope not."

"Well ... it is this," Kit said, frowning. "I ... cannot come right away. Many lives depend on my mission here. I cannot leave, even if Ryn needs me. I would ask you to ... act as her next of kin, in my place. Stay with her during recovery, or ... well, if she doesn't make it ... I know Ryn considers you a good friend. I know you'll take care of ... what needs to be done." Kit cleared his throat. "But will this interfere with your Jedi duties?"

 _Probably_. "I'm sure Master Kenobi will let me have a little time, at least until you can come yourself." _But he won't like it much. And it's a terrible way to prove I'm not attached._

Kit sighed as though he'd just had a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you, Padawan Skywalker. I will join you on Coruscant as soon as I can."

(~)

Ryn opened her eyes slowly. The light speared through them and set off alarms in her brain, and she flinched, squeezing her eyes shut and wrenching her face away from the glare.

A voice called her name.

"Ryn?"

The voice was warm and slightly rough, a hot toddy of a voice. It slid like raw silk along her shattered nerves and stroked something deep inside her to a warm glow.

"Ryn?"

She knew that voice, had heard it in her dreams. She knew the slow warmth it sent spreading through her limbs and the hollow ache of longing it echoed through in her chest.

_Say my name again._

"Ryn, can you hear me?"

_Anakin._

And with recognition came memory and sensation, and Ryn inhaled sharply as pains battered through her everywhere, and she reached out blindly and found her aching fingers gripped in a steady clasp, firm but surprisingly gentle. The hands were like the voice: warm and rough, and as Ryn squeezed weakly back, she tried to say his name but couldn't.

Abruptly there was cool air on the back of her hand where his palm had rested, and then something cold and hard was against her lips.

"Drink this," Anakin's voice said, and Ryn tried, but she felt more spilling across her cheek than down her throat.

She felt herself being lifted, and then Anakin's voice again, so close the vibrations from his mouth actually tickled against her eardrum. "Here."

She sipped again, wetting her throat this time, and she tried to open her eyes and tell him "thank you" but the light was still too bright, and she flinched again and buried her face in Anakin's shoulder.

"Too bright?" Anakin queried into her hair. She felt a stir, and the glare against her eyelids faded away.

"Better?" he asked her, and Ryn knew he must have used the Force to dim the lights.

She blinked cautiously and nodded, trying to bring Anakin's face into focus.

He brushed her hair back, rubbing one calloused thumb in the hollow of her cheek. "That was quite the nap you took."

Ryn tried to smile. The muscles in her face felt stiff. "How ... long?" she croaked.

Anakin held the cup against her lips again and watched her drink before he answered.

"Two and a half days."

 _Ouch_. "The assassins?"

"You killed one. Master Tachi is looking for the other."

_He could be anywhere by now._

"The one I killed didn't have much of a chance to pass on his information." Ryn said; but it came out as cracked whisper, and she reached for the cup again.

Anakin held it for her.

"I don't want you worrying about that," he informed her sternly. "You've done enough already -- _and_ worried me half to death. What were you thinking, attacking two of them at once?"

"There weren't two when I attacked," Ryn pointed out; and then she frowned, or tried to. "Are you lecturing me on reckless behavior, Padawan Skywalker?"

Anakin smiled. "Maybe just a little." He touched his fingertips lightly to the sore spot in her abdomen. "You must be feeling a _lot_ better, if you're up to teasing me."

"Don't flatter yourself, Skywalker."

"Mmm." Ryn could feel his amusement and relief, warm and thick as honey fresh from the comb, gleaming sticky in the sunlight. "I should go tell Master Che that you're awake. Will you be all right?"

 _I'd be better if you'd keep touching me._ "Of course."

Gently he disentangled himself and rested Ryn's head on the pillow. "I'll be right back," he whispered.

With Anakin gone, Ryn had considerably less incentive to stay awake -- the hospital room was just not that interesting -- but, mindful of his promise to return soon, she tried to keep her eyes propped open. Being pampered and doted on was not something she wanted to miss, especially if it was going to involve more of that lovely cuddling ... although Ryn could think of a couple of ways even that could be improved. Say, by the removal of several layers of highly unnecessary Jedi clothing. What did the Jedi think they were dressing for anyway, a vacation on Hoth? Ryn was fairly certain that her physical condition had not improved enough to allow for any sort of strenuous activities, but it couldn't hurt to dream.

She amused herself with making a list of potential ways to show her appreciation until Anakin returned.

The look on his face when he stuck his head around the door told her she'd been caught, at least partly. He frowned at her in concern. "Ryn? Are you all right? You feel ... strange."

 _You mean like a woman who's been fantasizing about ways to get you naked?_ "I'm fine."

He came closer, still frowning. "Are you sure? You feel ... Oh." Comprehension dawned. " _Oh._ "

Anakin looked suddenly nervous, poised on the verge of fleeing.

Ryn offered him a rueful smile. "Come on in, Anakin. I believe I can control myself."

Anakin's self-conscious frown morphed suddenly into his familiar cocky grin. "Are you sure?"

Ryn rolled her eyes; it almost didn't hurt. "Getting easier all the time," she assured him. "Besides, if you can't defend yourself against a woman with three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a fractured pelvis ... maybe you should give up on the whole Jedi thing. It might not be for you."

She saw the blush burn up into his cheeks and raised one hand -- rather stiffly -- against a flash of defensive temper. "Kidding, Anakin. You know I don't question your skills."

The flare in Anakin's aura subsided. "Well, maybe if it comes to it I can wrestle you to the ground."

"Don't tempt me," Ryn murmured, just to see him blush again, without the anger this time. "Come sit down."

He sat in the bedside chair, still a little wary, and Ryn tried not to project raging lust. Given her condition, it wasn't all that difficult.

A particularly bad twinge made Anakin reach out and touch her hand. "Master Che will be here any minute."

Ryn nodded, too tired to speak, and accepted a few more sips of water from the cup Anakin held once more to her lips.

"You're going to be fine," Anakin said softly, almost crooning. "You'll see." He squeezed her hand lightly. "And your brother Kit should be coming soon."

That made Ryn's brows snap together with a quick stab of pain, but before she could ask any of the questions that sprang to mind, Vokara Che swept in, and all inquiries had to be shunted aside.

"Awake, I see," Che offered.

Ryn nodded.

"How are you feeling?"

 _Like stale poodoo._ "Very tired. And my chest hurts, but I believe that is to be excpected. I ... recall your analysis."

Che frowned slightly. "Your broken bones should be almost healed by now. I wonder if your Healing trance has been deep enough." She pressed a hand to Ryn's forehead and closed her eyes, head cocked as if listening.

"Hm," she said, lifting her hand and opening her eyes. "Your Healing trance is there, and I can tell that your bones are mostly knitted, though they will not achieve their former density for another day or two ... but it seems that you still have some distance to go before the injuries are sufficiently healed to no longer be sore. Possibly your control of the Force is not great enough to manage faster recuperation, or perhaps your injuries are simply so extensive that your body cannot channel the energy to heal them faster. I confess, I do not know the answer. I have never worked on a Force-sensitive who was not a Jedi before, and I have seldom seen a patient live with injuries as extensive as yours."

 _That makes me feel so good,_ Ryn thought sarcastically. Aloud she said, "How long until I am fit to leave the infirmary?"

Che frowned again. "Difficult to say," she admitted. "You live alone, unlike Padawans your age, so I feel you must be recovered sufficiently to care for your own needs safely before--"

"Master Che," Anakin interrupted. "My master and I will be happy to watch over Orun, if it lets her leave the infirmary a few days sooner. Release her into Master Obi-Wan's care."

Ryn laid a hand on Anakin's arm and squeezed lightly, then winced as the motion revealed a few more sore spots. "I am not at all sure that Master Kenobi will share your perspective," she reminded him gently. "If I am likely to need continued medical care, then the infirmary would seem the safest place for me. And you and Master Kenobi need to concentrate on finding out who is behind this assassination plot. Taking care of me will only slow you down."

A shadow crossed Anakin's face. "The Council has chosen not to assign us to the investigation," he said, clearly striving for a neutral tone. "They feel we are ... too close to the problem, that we won't be objective."

"Oh." Ryn blinked, trying to assimilate this new and rather baffling information. "That's ... I'm sorry, Anakin. That must be frustrating. I'm sure you want to be ... more active in the pursuit."

"A Jedi must not be controlled by his emotions," Anakin intoned. It sounded like a recitation -- from Obi-Wan, probably. He forced a smile. "Master Tachi is very competent. I'm sure she will get to the bottom of it soon."

Ryn sensed that he was putting on his best "Jedi face" for Master Che, so she didn't push. "I'm sure that's true. But I still don't think Master Kenobi will want a houseguest. I'll be fine here until I can be released to my own quarters. It won't be long."

"Actually," Vokara Che said, "I would feel much better about releasing you into the care of a Jedi, especially given your relative youth and inexperience. I'd like to keep you overnight for observation, but you could leave as early as tomorrow morning, with Master Kenobi's cooperation."

 _Fine, ignore everything I say._ Ryn frowned and tried again. "I don't wish to be an inconvenience," she tried again. "If I'm not being too much trouble, I don't mind waiting here. Honestly."

Vokara Che twitched her headtails, but Ryn hadn't spent enough time around Twi'leks to interpret the gesture.

"Anakin," the Healer said. "Go get your master. I'd like to consult with him about this matter."

Ryn would have liked to sigh, but her chest hurt too much, so she settled for a grimace of resignation as Anakin headed for the door, already breaking into a jog.

_That boy never walks when he can run._

_  
_


	4. Treading on Deep Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The galaxy will take that from him soon enough.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars.  I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

 

**CHAPTER FOUR**

She must have dozed, because the next thing she knew, Obi-Wan Kenobi was sitting in the bedside chair. Ryn blinked rapidly and tried to push herself higher on the pillows.

"Master Kenobi," she croaked, and Obi-Wan handed her the cup Anakin had held earlier.

While she drank, Obi-Wan looked her over with a friendly twinkle in his eye. "You don't look so much the worse for wear."

"Your eyes can deceive you, don't trust them," Ryn muttered, and Obi-Wan's mouth quirked in a wry smile that was as close to laughter as he usually came.

"It is ... good to see you alive," he said gently.

Obi-Wan was treading perilously close to admitting to emotions, and Ryn knew it didn't come easily to him.

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I'm just glad that you and Anakin are all right, for now." She sipped water again. "Has Master Tachi made any progress in her investigation?"

"She is hunting the spy's companion."

 _That means no._ "I feel certain that those two were only part of a larger group. Has anyone questioned the Padawan who was talking to one of them in the garden?"

"Ferus Olin," Obi-Wan supplied. "Master Yoda debriefed him fully as soon as you were delivered to the Healers. And I believe that part of the reason Master Tachi was assigned this mission is because she is Padawan Olin's master."

Ryn hesitated. "That makes sense. But it must be frustrating, even for a Jedi, to have to wait and rely on someone else to conduct the investigation."

"The Jedi way teaches us to acknowledge our feelings, then release them into the Force."

Ryn sipped. "A difficult discipline."

There was something Kenobi wanted to say; he just wasn't saying it. Something held him back. Ryn took another sip of water and waited, eyes scanning the bare little room. _No pressure,_ she thought at him. _Take your time, Obi-Wan._

After a few uncertain minutes, the Jedi reached out and carefully took her bandaged right hand, the one that wasn't wrapped around her drinking cup.

"I want you to know," he said slowly, "that I appreciate what you did ... out there ... for my Padawan. Anakin might be in the gravest danger right now, if it were not for your sacrifice. Thank you."

"It was my duty," Ryn said. "I don't your thanks for that. But, Obi-Wan ... I urge you to remember that Anakin may _still_ be in danger -- both of you. Those fanatics are still out there, and my heart tells me they will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. It is a holy war for them. Their end can justify any means in their eyes. That makes them very dangerous beings. Do not underestimate them."

"I won't," Obi-Wan said. He paused. "Ferus seems to believe they were looking for the Chosen One. Do you think they could have anything to do with the Yinang situation we encountered with Evinne?"

"It does seem like an extraordinary coincidence," Ryn said. "But if either of them wore the symbol, I did not see it. And why would the Yinang want Anakin dead? Doesn't the Chosen One have to be alive to fulfill the prophecy?"

Obi-Wan paled, just perceptibly. "I have always assumed so," he said cautiously. "But I don't suppose the prophecy actually says as much."

Ryn felt her jaw tighten and worked it loose. _Jedi._ "Look, Obi-Wan, the simplest solution is usually the best. So let's assume that Anakin needs to be alive in order to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force, since that is the simplest explanation." She waited for Obi-Wan's nod, which she thought looked vaguely relieved. "So: why would a group dedicated to the pursuit of balance in all things want to see the Chosen One killed?" Obi-Wan didn't answer, frowning. "The assassin I followed said that Anakin was too dangerous to live. He said, 'you think balance is a good thing?' That doesn't sound like Yinang thinking to me. I think we're dealing with a separate group."

"I can't fault your reasoning," Obi-Wan said. "But it still seems too much of a coincidence to believe. My instincts tell me there is a connection."

Ryn nodded. Obi-Wan was a strong Jedi, with well-tuned instincts; it was entirely possible that he was sensing something that had escaped her. "Have you told Master Tachi this?"

"No. I didn't want to prejudice her investigation."

Ryn felt her mouth drop open and closed it carefully. "It seems like the kind of information she could put to good use," she said at last. "Perhaps ... a joint meditation?"

"You may be right," Obi-Wan said. "I'll consider it. In the meantime ... I didn't actually come down here to talk shop. Master Che tells me that you could leave her care as early as tomorrow, if you were to stay with Anakin and me for a day or two."

Ryn winced. "Yes, I know Anakin put that idea into her head. But, really, Master Kenobi, unless the Healers need the bedspace for other patients, I feel much better staying ere. It's the best medical facility on Coruscant, or so I'm told. And Jedi quarters aren't exactly spacious: you and Anakin have little enough room as it is."

"We'll be fine." Obi-Wan looked down at her hands. "It would make Anakin feel better if you came home with us."

 _He's obsessing,_ Ryn thought, _and I'm pretty sure this is one of those things you're supposed to be training him not to do._

Aloud she said, "I'm not sure his compulsive need to help is healthy. He really believes he can fix anything."

Obi-Wan's eyes darkened slightly. "The galaxy will take that from him soon enough."

 _Obi-Wan, you are attached._ But that was one of the things she could never say to Obi-Wan. Sometimes the veil he held between himself and the truth was the only thing that let him operate.

Ryn had learned a lot about the Jedi lately, and not all of it was comforting.

"I'll come," she said. "But you're in charge of keeping Anakin in rein."

Obi-Wan smiled at her, relief in his eyes. "I'll do my best."

  



	5. Two Steps Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan could almost imagine what it might have been like, to have a family of his own ...

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars.  I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

 

 ** CHAPTER FIVE **

Anakin smiled encouragingly as he slid an arm around Ryn's waist. "We'll go slow and take it easy," he assured her. "Lean on me all you need to."

"Thank you, Anakin, but leaning anywhere actually hurts." She sensed the frown before it could appear on his forehead and said, "I'll be fine. We'll just go slow, like you said."

"That's right," Obi-Wan agreed. "There's no rush. As Mater Yoda would say, 'always now, even eternity will be'."

Ryn's lips quirked briefly. "I hope it doesn't take  _that_  long."

"Patience, you must have, young one," Anakin instructed her.

He was rewarded by Ryn's low chuckle and Obi-Wan's half-teasing, "A little respect for your elders, Padawan."

"Very elder," Anakin murmured in Ryn's ear.

Ryn snorted and pinched his arm. Obi-Wan adopted a slightly scolding, _what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you_ look.

Life was good.

They got Ryn settled in Anakin's room without too much trouble, though it did seem to take something close to eternity to get there.

No one was more troubled by the delay than Ryn herself, who was used to pacing quick-footed about the Temple precincts.

"I could have slept on the couch," she murmured when they led her to Anakin's bed.

"Nonsense," Obi-Wan insisted, fluffing the single (rather flat) pillow. "Do you think he would have slept a wink with you out there? Not that the bed will be much better, mind you. I don't doubt that Anakin has destroyed the mattress with all that flopping about."

Ryn glanced at Anakin as he leaned past her to turn back the covers. "You do a lot of flopping?"

Anakin scowled at his master before answering. "I'm not a heavy sleeper."

"Why am I not surprised?" Ryn murmured in reply.

Despite her good humor, Anakin could see the signs of stress and fatigue on her face. He slid an arm around her and eased her gently down to lie on the bed and covered her carefully with a worn blanket of soft brown bantha wool. She felt thinner in his arms -- an effect, probably of the intensive healing process.

"There you go," he said softly, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. "Snug as a bug in a run -- that's what my mom always said."

Ryn smiled, just a little. This close, he could feel her aches, the tiredness that went all the way to her marrow. "I've never heard that before. My mother used to say, 'snug as a wampa in its cave'. I think perhaps I like yours better."

"Get some rest," Obi-Wan advised, putting a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Come, Anakin, we must let our patient take a nap."

[~]

Night had set over the Temple and the hour was growing late, but Obi-Wan found himself reluctant to announce bedtime. There was something strangely ... familial ... about their after-dinner interactions, like a glimpse into the kind of life he might have had if he hadn't been born Force-sensitive, if he hadn't learned to be a Jedi. He didn't regret his life in service to the Order ... but for a little while, this was nice.

The three of them had eaten supper together, talking animatedly (Anakin), quietly (Ryn), and politely (Obi-Wan), and then Ryn and Obi-Wan had played a quiet word game while Anakin cleared the table. Ryn gave him a run for his money; her Basic was getting better. Now she was reclining on the couch with her long legs draped over Anakin's lap, which was tempting Anakin into tickling her bare feet whenever he thought she might not be paying attention, which was pretty often since she had a datapad in front of her face that she was using to drill him on Chandrilan etiquette. Apparently she'd found the thing lying around and decided that Anakin needed to become familiar with its contents.

Anakin was being a good sport about it.

As Obi-Wan watched, Anakin missed another question. Ryn toed him lazily under the ribs and said, "Obi-Wan? Can you do better?"

"Ah ... what was the question?"

'If you attend a casual dinner party with both your younger brother's wife and your older brother's wife, which woman is most closely related to you?"

Obi-Wan blinked. "Aren't they the same?"

"No." Ryn tapped the datapad with a long finger. "Your older brother's wife receives your deference, while your younger brother's wife is meant to receive your protection. But on Chandrila, that question is a joke, and the right answer is, 'your mother!'"

"Hilarious, I'm sure," Obi-Wan said drily. "Any other delightful pieces of entertainment in there?"

"I don't think so," Ryn answered, "although I heard a good one the other day. How many Jedi does it take to repair a light fixture?"

Obi-Wan set down his teacup. "I've no idea."

"Three," Ryn said, and ticked them off on her fingers. "One to change the bulb, one to levitate him to the ceiling, and one to meditate on the value of partnership."

"I've heard better jokes," Anakin commented.

"Well, I don't think the creche is going to become a hotspot for standup comedy," Ryn conceded. "But at least the younglings know how to laugh. That's more than I can say for Master Windu. Or most other Jedi, now that I think about it."

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan with a cheeky grin. "Do you know how to laugh, Master?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "When the occasion calls for it, Padawan. I can't say that I find Ryn's material terribly amusing."

"Hey," Ryn said, waving the datapad. "Don't blame me. I didn't make the jokes. I'm just telling them."

Anakin pinched her for that. "You remember telling Master Windu about the laughing cure?"

"I was trying to forget," Ryn said, tapping her way down the datapad again. "I'm not sure he's forgiven me yet."

"What's this?" Obi-Wan asked, looking from Ryn to Anakin and back again.

"Long story," Ryn said quickly. "You had to be there. Tell me about Twi-lek women instead. Are they as fantastic as this article claims?"

"What article?" Anakin said, momentarily distracted, and Ryn held up the datapad to show a picture of a half-naked female Twi-lek poised provacatively in the middle of what might have been a dance floor.

"The article says they are considered the most attractive female humanoids in the galaxy," Ryn said, "but that has actually been a liability for them. Members of their own species routintely sell young females into slavery off-world. It says here that 'Twi'lek females are highly prized as plesaure workers, often unpaid, because of their agility and perceived sensuality, which may be partly due to the obviously tactile and sensitive nature of their twin lekku.'"

"That's outrageous!" Anakin exclaimed, eyes flashing in what Obi-Wan had come to recognize as his Temper Tantrum Warning Signal.

"It certainly is," Ryn agreed. "But what may be even sadder is that many female Twi-lek who escape slavery flee to Loreth. Ryloth is a Republic world, but despite the Republic's anti-slavery laws, they fear recapture. And, of course, the journey to Loreth puts them dangerously close to Hutt territory. The Republic isn't very active in enforcing some of its humanitarian policies."

"The Jedi could end slavery if they tried," Anakin said, his voice lowering dangerously. "They  _should_."

Ryn shrugged. "As an arm of the Galactic Senate, the Jedi are bound to respect the autonomy of individual systems, and often prevented from acting because of political concerns. The Agri-Corps, actually, does more. They are under less scrutiny. A lot of indentured servants have escaped to Loreth that way. But I'm afraid our efforts to disrupt the Hutt slave trade have met with little success."

"The Lorethan government has been taking steps against the Hutt slave trade?" Obi-Wan said, surprised. "I had not heard that."

Ryn scowled at him. "The best covert operation are the ones you don't hear about," she said. "But actually all the anti-slavery missions have been conducted through the Jade Temple. They are limited in scope because we haven't been able to figure out a way to disable the AEDs from a distance."

"AEDs?" Obi-Wan queried.

"Anti-Escape Devices," Anakin said, the line of his jaw tightening, and Obi-Wan remembered the dreams he used to have when he was younger, that the transmitter was somehow still active and he would explode from the inside.

"Right," Ryn said. "Anyway, we have to get close, undetected, and work fast. And even then, sometimes the trigger is just too sensitive and ... well, it's not pretty."

"You've been on those missions?" Anakin asked eagerly, and Ryn shook her head.

"Only twice: to Nar Shadaa, both times. I know you're thinking about your mother, but I don't have any information about her, Anakin. I'm sorry."

"But there  _are_  missions to Tatooine?" Anakin pressed her. "That's what Evinne was doing in Mos Eisley, wasn't it?"

Ryn's lips compressed unhappily, but she nodded. "None of the former slaves I worked with at the Temple ever mentioned a son who'd left with the Jedi. I'd have remembered that."

"She might not have said anything," Anakin insisted, his agitation rising. "You might have missed her."

"It's possible," Ryn said. "I don't think it's likely that we ever crossed paths. But here." She leaned forward, not quite hiding a grimace of pain, and held up her right hand, palm outward. "You can at least search my memories. If she did escape to Loreth, there's a good chance I would have seen her at the Temple."

Obi-Wan hesitated, torn between an impulse to head off what probably was a foolhardy venture and his curiosity to see how Ryn was going to make this work.

Anakin, as usual, only knew how to fly full speed ahead. He reached out and pressed his hand flat against Ryn's and dove in.

Obi-Wan watched them mirror each other, breathing in unison, eyes closed, faces tight with concentration. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a perfect display of unity in the Force. It was breathtaking.

The door chimed.

Ryn and Anakin didn't react; they were both too centered in the Force, and in each other, for that.

But nobody would be calling here at this hour without a pressing reason.

Obi-Wan got up and hit the door release, to reveal Padawan Ferus Olin, looking a slightly less perfect version of calm than usual.

"Master Kenobi?"

"Padawan Olin. Good to see you." Obi-Wan refused to glance back over his shoulder to see what the other two were doing.

"I ... one of the Healers' apprentices told me that Miss Orun had been released into your care."

"She is here, yes."

"I was wondering ... is she sleeping? May I speak with her?"

"She and Anakin are completing a joint meditation," Obi-Wan said, figuring that was the best way to describe the psychic exchange taking place in his living room. "I doubt they'll be much longer. You are welcome to come in and wait."

"Yes -- yes, thank you, Master Kenobi." Ferus bowed with a little less than his usual grace and entered the living space as though trying to take up as little of it as possible.

On the couch, Ryn and Anakin were still linked, still focused. Then, as Obi-Wan watched, Ryn broke the rhythm of their breathing with a soft sigh and relaxed her fingers against Anakin's, loosening their skin-to-skin connection.

Anakin took a second longer to come back to himself. He blinked, releasing the spell that held Ryn's eyes closed, and breathed in slowly. "I'm sorry," he murmured, eyes dark as they searched hers. "Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine." Ryn's skin glistened with sweat, as though she'd been performing a kata, instead of sitting still on the couch; but the smile she gave Anakin looked tired but happy.

Her glow dimmed a little as she looked at him, and she reached out to touch him on the arm. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you find your mother," she said softly.

"That's all right," Anakin mumbled; but Obi-Wan knew that wasn't really true, even if, for a Jedi, it should have been.

"Ryn," he said, breaking the intimacy of the scene. "You have a visitor."

Ryn turned in Obi-Wan's direction, blinking in confusion.

"Padawan Olin," she greeted Ferus, getting to her feet a little gingerly. "What can I do for you?"

"I ... well, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

Obi-Wan saw the puzzlement flicker across Ryn's face, but she quickly recovered.

"Quite comfortable, thank you. I am being spoiled rotten here."

"Because," Ferus said, forging ahead with more determination than finesse, "if you find things a bit crowded with the three of you, you could come with me. Master Tachi is away this evening, investigating. You'd all have more room."

On the couch, Anakin stiffened. Obi-Wan caught Ryn's slight gesture, hardly a flick of her fingers, that had him settling back against the cushions, only partly mollified.

"That is a very generous offer, Padawan Olin," Ryn said politely. "I thank you for your kindness. But as Master Kenobi was reached an understanding with Vokara Che, I think I should continue to uphold it. And the overcrowding is not so bad for me -- though I fear Padawan Skywalker has been banished to the couch."

"Yes; I'd heard you two were close," Ferus said, as though that were relevant. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Ryn said. "But I thank you."

"Very well. If you ... if you think of anything I can do for you, will you let me know?"

"You may count on it," Ryn affirmed.

"I want -- I want to make things right."

"I know. You're a good man, Olin. Decent. I am certain the Force will give you the chance to atone."

"Yes ... well ... all right. I'll leave you, then."

"Rest well."

"And you." Ferus started for the door, remembered whose apartment he was in, and managed to toss off two jerky bows before hastening out.

Ryn stood chewing her lip refletively for a moment before cocking her head at Obi-Wan. "Is it just me, or was that damn strange?"


	6. Kiss Away Your Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and breakfast in bed.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars.  I am not him, and I am not making any profit from this work of fan fiction. 

 

 

**CHAPTER SIX**

Anakin snapped into consciousness, body tensing on the sofa as he stretched out with his feelings, trying to identify the thing that had awakened him.

There was no sense of danger, but the still semi-darkness was broken by the sound of muffled whimpering.

Anakin rose silently and followed the noise to the doorway of his room and looked in.

Ryn lay on her back, eyes tightly shut, but in the glow from the window, where light from Coruscant's vague dawn filtered in, Anakin could see tears glistening on her cheeks, leaking from beneath her closed lids. As he stood uncertainly in the doorway, she made a quiet sound of distress, and a hard tremor shook her body.

Anakin stepped forward and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, feeling out of his depth. Jedi didn't have nightmares -- not that they admitted, anyway -- and it had been a long time since he had had his mom to wake him from a bad dream. Hestitantly, he reached out and touched his friend's shoulder. "Ryn?"

She didn't respond, so he tried again, more forcefully. "Ryn? Wake up. It's me, it's Anakin. Ryn, please ..."

Ryn woke with a sharp gasp, her eyes flying open, and jack-knifed to a sitting position as though her spine had been springloaded.

"You're alive," she whispered, and threw herself into his arms. "You're _alive._ "

"Yeah, I am," Anakin agreed, putting his arms around her and patting her hair.

Ryn's tears were damp against his bare chest. "I dreamed you were dead." Her voice cracked. "Anakin, I was so afraid."

"It was just a dream," Anakin said, but Ryn shook her head against his shoulder, smearing tears.

"Some of it was real. The killing field back home. All those dead faces." She shuddered in his arms. "Only this time, every face I saw was you." She broke off in a sob, shaking, and Anakin held her closer, touching hesitant kisses to the top of her head.

"Shh," he murmured, his breath stirring her hair. "I'm fine. I'm right here."

Ryn's arms around him tightened, pressing closer. "I know," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're all right." She shuddered again. "We will find the people who want you dead. We _will_ stop this, Anakin. I promise you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Jedi powers may not be enough."

"I was tough before I was a Jedi," Anakin reminded her. The Jedi had taught him how to harness his power, it was true -- but Tatooine had taught him how to survive.

He felt Ryn's shaky smile. "I guess that's true." She sighed and eased her grip a little. "I just wish you could be a little more safe and a little less tough, that's all."

Anakin shrugged, almost dislodging her, and then held her a little tighter to make up for it. "I'm a Jedi. It's my job to face danger."

"I know," Ryn said, pulling back a little more and reaching for his hands. "But I'm your friend. It's my job to take care of you."

"You can take a vacation," Anakin said. "I'm going to be fine." He could still feel her fear, like a hand around her throat, choking her. "I promise."

Ryn looked up at him, her eyes bright even in the darkness. "You can't promise that. No one can."

"I am," Anakin insisted firmly, and Ryn dropped her eyes.

"Just be careful, all right?"

"I will," Anakin promised her, squeezing her hands. They felt thinner than they should have, more fragile, and he was reminded painfully how much her recovery had taken out of her. It was normal for Force-healing to cause patients to lose weight, as the technique forced the body to convert its reserves to energy rapidly, but Ryn's injuries had been extensive, and she hadn't exactly been carrying a lot of extra weight before ...

"Do you think you could get a little more sleep?" he asked her softly, watching Coruscant's brightening sky over her shoulder.

Ryn shook her head, untucking a little to rest her chin on his shoulder. "Not right now. Maybe I'll read a little. I saw you had a datapad on Corellian history ..."

"No reading," Anakin told her, fluffing up the single pillow and easing her back onto it. "Lie here and try to get some rest, and I'll just be one room away."

Ryn's lips quirked. "Has anyone ever told you that you were bossy, Master Skywalker?"

"You're the first." Anakin brushed his fingers against her cheek, almost a kiss. "Rest."

Ryn slipped out of the 'fresher and tiptoed back to Anakin's room. She'd fallen asleep again, after he went back to the couch, and this time her sleep had been too brief, but mercifully untroubled, and she felt better for it.

She stopped in the doorway. Anakin was waiting for her on the bed, his face alight with an expectant smile.

"What's this?"

Anakin held up a loaded tray. " _This,_ milady, is breakfast in bed."

A closer examination revealed that the tray held a plate of buttered toast, a bowl of brightly colored fruit, and two glasses of blue milk.

Something caught at Ryn's throat, and she realized that she was crying again, uncharacteristically emotional.

"Oh, Anakin," she said, finding her voice with difficulty. "You didn't have to --" but Anakin was busily plumping the pillow, and paid her no mind.

"If milady will take her place," he said, balancing the tray with the Force in the midair so that he could use both hands to hold the blanket.

Ryn stifled a laugh and crawled in, settling back against the headboard with the pillow behind her as Anakin brought the blanket up to tuck about her waist.

 


	7. Killing Fields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood memories good, bad, and ugly.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars.  I am not him, nor am I making any profit from this work of fan fiction.

 

 

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Obi-Wan woke with a groan. He had slept reasonably well, despite the concerns that tried to edge into his mind -- for example, that someone was out to kill his Padawan, and that his intentions of getting some distance between Anakin and Ryn had somehow gotten so far off course that she was actually sleeping in the next room. But he had had odd dreams, and despite the hours of unconsciousness, he felt unrested. The chrono, however, told him that he had no business lying in bed, so he threw his legs over the side and got up.

And froze.

On the other side of the narrow hallway, he heard soft laughter. In Anakin's room.

Instead of making straight for the refresher, as he had planned, Obi-Wan crossed to Anakin's door and hit the release.

The beige plasteel slid back to reveal Ryn and Anakin sitting on the bed, facing each other over a tray of toast and fruit, laughing.

Anakin turned to him, a piece of fruit dripping purple juice through his fingers, still smiling, as Ryn, her mouth full, waved a greeting with a piece of toast.

"Master," Anakin said. "I didn't know you were up. I left you some breakfast, on the ..." His voice trailed off as he sensed his Master's displeasure. "Master Obi-Wan?" he asked uncertainly.

Ryn demonstrated some presence of mind by wrapping a napkin around Anakin's hand to catch the sticky juice. "We probably woke him, Anakin. Force knows I've been laughing my head off."

"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin said, apparently accepting Ryn's proffered explanation. "We were just talking. I was telling Ryn some stories about Watto --"

Obi-Wan's brows jerked upward before he could stop them, and all his easing suspicions leap back to life. "About _Watto?_ '"

Anakin _never_ talked about Tatooine -- anything about Tatooine. It was the unwritten rule of their relationship. He'd wanted to, in the beginning; he'd wanted to talk about his mother. But as time went by and he began to understand that missing his mother was something the Jedi Order could never tolerate, Tatooine had become the locked door behind Anakin's eyes, the place Obi-Wan would never trespass.

Sleeping next door to Anakin's nightmares had told him everything he'd never wanted to know about growing up on Tatooine.

But Ryn was nodding, her grin -- always a little reluctant, even now that they'd grown to know each other a bit -- lighting her face. "I can't believe you swiped that converter," she said, actually giggling. "How come he never caught you?"

"He must have guessed I did it," Anakin conceded, licking his fingers, a gesture that clearly fascinated his companion. "But calling me on it would mean admitting he'd been outsmarted by a six-year-old slave. Watto had too much pride."

"Good story," Ryn approved, looking as though she were thinking about having Anakin for breakfast instead of her fruit and toast. "But I'll bet Master Kenobi knows a few that won't flatter you so well." She smiled at Obi-Wan, obviously trying to be friendly, cracking her reserve a little. "How about it, Master Kenobi? Want to share some of Anakin's embarrassing childhood stories?"

It all sounded innocent enough -- except for the longing looks Ryn kept shooting Anakin when she thought he wasn't looking, but she seemed to be restraining herself from anything more active -- but Obi-Wan couldn't forget the sound of that breathless, delighted laughter. It had sounded so ... _sensual._

_Maybe I'm just paranoid._

Obi-Wan hovered just inside the doorway, uncertain, probing the Force for clues.

Anakin tried to help him out. "You can tell her about trying to teach me to swim," he offered. "That was pretty bad."

That was a generous offer, coming from a boy who could hardly stand to be tweaked; Obi-Wan assumed his Padawan's resistance to even good-natured teasing derived somehow from the years before Obi-Wan had known him, one of the less obvious scars left by his childhood. He had a feeling the mockery in Anakin's early life hadn't been meant in fun.

For just a second, he resented this newcomer for being the one to loosen the tight knot of reticence inside _his_ Padawan. It should have been him. He should have been the one to coax open Anakin's defenses, the one to make him finally feel safe, the one to be invited in ...

But he'd had six years, and he hadn't done any of that. After all this time, he still hadn't quite earned Anakin's trust. His respect, yes. His admiration, certainly. Even, Obi-Wan knew and didn't want to know, his love. But he hadn't earned his Padawan's trust: not the sure knowledge that he could say whatever he was thinking, be completely himself, because Obi-Wan would never reject him, never turn away.

Ryn had.

And his resentment was just a reaction to his own failure.

He said, "Possibly I shouldn't have tried to teach you to swim so _soon_ ..."

It had been years ago, probably less than a month since he'd begun Anakin's training, and Obi-Wan, overwhelmed by the boy's quiet misery -- Anakin never complained about it, not even once, but Obi-wan knew he was lonely and frightened and unhappy, and that he woke crying almost every night -- had wanted very badly to show his Padawan something _fun_ about life in the Temple. Any other Jedi could have scampered off to play with his creche-mates; but Anakin had no creche-mates, which was part of the problem. So Obi-Wan, well aware of his new Padawan's fascination with water in any form, had resolved to teach him how to swim.

He'd led Anakin down to one of the Temple pools, not too much deeper than Anakin's blonde little head, and waded around with him until Anakin overcame enough of his initial unease at being in so much water to say, "I'm ready, Master."

Floating seemed easier than swimming, so Obi-Wan had laid Anakin on his back in the water and held his arms beneath him for support as they drifted deeper together.

Anakin had taken to this, as to most physical tasks, with an ease that made it seem to come naturally, and so Obi-Wan had taken his arms away and stirred the water with a gentle push of the Force that drew Anakin away, into deeper water.

Obi-Wan had meant to encourage Anakin to slowly open his eyes and see how well he was doing -- he had mastered floating in less than a morning! But it didn't work out that way. Before Obi-Wan gave Anakin the planned nudge in the Force, the Padawan looked up, smiling broadly, to say something to him, found that his Master was not where he was supposed to be, and panicked, with the result that he floundered and began to sink.

Obi-Wan could still remember the moment of shocked inaction as he'd seen the pool close over Anakin's thrashing. He'd kicked off the bottom and swum to his Padawan's aim, but Anakin had almost drowned them both in his terrified flailing. Obi-Wan had had to fight him all the way to the edge of the pool, where he heaved them both over the side and pounded copious amounts of burning, chemical-treated water out of Anakin's lungs.

When he could breathe again -- which took a lot longer than Obi-Wan would have liked -- Anakin had looked up at him with fear and mistrust in his now-watery blue eyes.

 _You weren't there,_ he'd whispered in the Force, although Obi-Wan wasn't sure he'd meant to project the thought. And Obi-Wan, equal parts guilt for pushing Anakin too hard and relief at not becoming the first Master ever to lose his Padawan _inside_ the Temple, could only look at him, helpless, and answer, _I'm sorry._

"So can you swim now?" Ryn asked, after listening to Obi-Wan's (heavily edited) account.

Anakin shook his head. "I think Master Obi-Wan was afraid I'd finish drowning us both if given half a chance. We never went near the pool again."

"That's a shame," Ryn said. "With a bit of a gentler introduction, I bet you'd like swimming. It's very freeing."

"I take it you swim?" Obi-Wan said, and Ryn nodded.

"Since before I can remember. The seawater near my home is rough and cold, but there are rivers nearby where it's safe to swim." Her lips quirked, remembering. "Sometimes warriors will swim in the sea for a dare. Thorun did it, when I was very small."

"Who is Thorun?" Obi-Wan asked.

An echo of pain leaked into the Force before Ryn could suppress it. "He was my father's steward," she answered, studying a piece of fruit. "He's dead now."

Obi-Wan saw Anakin cover her hand with his, but he didn't protest; it seemed somehow petty in the face of Ryn's muted sorrow.

"The war?" Anakin asked quietly, and Ryn nodded, pulling her hand away to fold her napkin with more care than it deserved.

"Not in battle," she said, her voice soft but even. "And to say _the war_ ... it's like saying that there was a clearly defined period with obvious enemies. Us and them. But the only time that happened was during the Chiss Incursion, two years ago. Anyway, Thorun ... it was the Trade Federation that time. They launched some kind of shapeshifting droid that could fly, overwhelmed the outer defenses in a surprise attack, and headed straight down the gravity well for the Orun shipyards -- which meant they had some damn good intel.

"We didn't keep starfighters up there, at the big house; we had a few farther north, but they were already being called away to the space battle that was really just a front. Men with blasters -- and most of us didn't even have those -- on the ground can't repel a determined attack from the sky.

"It was over quickly. Thorun and I were the only survivors of the assault -- he'd been watching me that day, keeping me out from underfoot because I was too young to be of any real use, except running messages. When the second wave of droids hit us, he grabbed me and ran for the cover of the forest. In the shelter of the trees, the droids couldn't find us, and though they incinerated the first stones' throw of forest, we were moving fast. What I didn't know then was that Thorun had been wounded; he'd taken a piece of shrapnel to the kidney in the first volley, and he was bleeding to death. I supposed I hadn't learned how to gauge the amount of blood a man could lose, back then, and it seemed to be everywhere that day.

"By the time relief arrived, the big house was nothing but a smoking crater and most of the droids had already cleared out. Thorun handed me off and told the troops to take me to my brother. He was dead within the hour."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said, and meant it.

Ryn lifted her shoulders in a tense little shrug. "He died well."

That thought seemed to give her some comfort, so Obi-Wan chose not to probe further. Instead, he said, "I expect I ought to go eat my breakfast. And, Anakin, don't you have a lesson with Master Nu this morning?"

"Yes, Master," Anakin said dutifully, rising and picking up the tray. "I won't be late."


	8. In Faded Training Pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan grows as a person. Ryn has ominous news. And Yoda is involved in a cover-up ...

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars.  I am not him, and I am not making any profit from this work of fan fiction. 

 

 

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Obi-Wan walked Ryn to her appointment with Vokara Che, evidently feeling that she couldn't manage to get there on her own. Anakin, meanwhile, had left to complete a lengthy literary assignment with no noticeable enthusiasm.

Alone in the corridor with the older Jedi, Ryn tried again to offer her apologies for waking him prematurely. "I'm so sorry for making so much noise this morning, Master Kenobi. It was disrespectful of me to disturb your rest. Anakin was much quieter, I promise you."

"There is no need to apologize," Obi-Wan said firmly. "I completely overreacted this morning." He hesitated. "I overheard the two of you ... laughing ... and I confess that I entirely misinterpreted the situation. The blame is mine."

Ryn shook her head to clear it, but only succeeded in making herself dizzy. "I don't understand," she said, feeling herself lost in this conversation. "What ..." She let her voice trail helplessly away, hardly knowing how to frame her question.

Fortunately, Kenobi seemed to know what she was trying to ask. "I believed the two of you were ... engaging in intimacy unbecoming to a Jedi."

He was being oblique, but Ryn knew what he meant. "I didn't realize Jedi had to be celibate?"

There was a short pause while Obi-Wan sorted out what he wanted to say, and Ryn let him.

In the end he answered her with a question. "Do you see Anakin having casual sex?"

Just the thought of Anakin having sex at all made her heart thump painfully in her chest and sent a whirl of deliciously illicit images through her head, making the cool Temple hallway throb with the life and heat of a tropical jungle. Her breasts felt strange: heavy, prickly.

_Anakin, Anakin ... No! Get a grip._

She drew in a slow breath and let it out, pushing her feelings firmly down.

"I guess not," she said, sounding almost calm. "It's not really his style."

"No," Obi-Wan agree. "I think Anakin believes in true love."

Ryn couldn't argue with that. She would even have thought it was a good thing, except it hurt so damn much to know it wasn't with her. But that was not an avenue she wanted to explore with Obi-Wan, so she shied away from the issue and said instead, "We weren't ... doing that."

"I know," Obi-Wan said. "I was wrong. I misjudged both you and Anakin." He glanced at her sidelong. "I would take it as a great kindness if you would refrain from mentioning this to him. He already feels that I judge him too harshly in many things."

Ryn took a moment to absorb this before answering. "This time, he would have been right, wouldn't he? Don't you think Anakin deserves your apology more than I do? After all, he was the one you suspected of breaking the rules." She pulled a rueful face. "You just thought I was a wily seductress."

"You would have tempted me at that age," Obi-Wan hedged, and Ryn forced a smile, trying to keep a good humor about it.

"We're _friends_ , Obi-Wan. Whatever else I feel, that friendship is at the heart of who we are together. Can you, as a Jedi, understand that?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "But I think that Anakin can. He has always had a greater ability to genuinely care for other beings than I could ever hope to manage. I just don't want him to fall into the dangers of attachment."

Ryn nodded, trying hard to see the situation from the Jedi's point of view. "Anakin told me once that he thought compassion was really just a Jedi name for unconditional love. I think he's on to something there. Except I'm not sure that anything else deserves to be called love. Real love doesn't have any room for selfishness. It's harder, because sometimes it means letting the other person go, even when you want to hold on. It can hurt. But I do truly love Anakin."

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment as they paced down the broad corridor. When he spoke, he didn't try to refute her challenge. "I'm not sure I understand you," he admitted. "What is your point?"

Ryn huffed a soft laugh that she wished didn't sound quite so bitter. _This what I get for baring my heart?_ "I guess what I'm trying to say is that the Jedi need a new way of thinking about love and attachment." Obi-Wan looked confused, so Ryn tried again.

"Look at it this way," she said. "If you weren't attached -- _committed_ \-- to the Jedi Order and what it stands for, at some level, the Order itself would inevitably fall apart. If beings didn't find reasons to become attached to each other, they wouldn't come together and make families. On the other hand, if jealous husbands weren't attached to their wives, they wouldn't cause violence, and if greedy beings were not attached to their wealth, they would not lie, cheat, and steal to get more of it. So it is important to be able to distinguish between healthy attachments and unhealthy ones.  Between how we feel and what we do.  The truth is more complicated than the Jedi want to admit."

"So you're arguing that the Jedi haven't thought it through?" Obi-Wan said, a note of disbelief coloring his voice.

"I'm saying the Jedi would like to see attachment -- and maybe other things, too -- in black and white, as absolutes, because it's simpler that way. But that's Sith thinking, and it's dangerous."

They had reached the doors to the infirmary, but Ryn held Obi-Wan back with a hand on his arm. "These are perilous times for all of us, Obi-Wan," she said solemnly, relaxing her shields to let her utter sincerity penetrate as she held his gaze. "The Jedi cannot afford to take the easy way out. Take nothing for granted. Question everything. The fate of the galaxy may depend on it."

Obi-Wan looked alarmed. "What are you saying?" he asked, wide-eyed. "Are you talking about the prophecy of the Chosen One?"

At least he was taking her seriously. Ryn made a noise of frustration. "I don't _know_ , Master Kenobi," she said, remembering to use his title this time. "Something is coming, a change. I can feel it. Our soothsayers -- precognitives, you would say -- tell us that the galaxy, and maybe even the Force itself, is building to a crisis." She kept her voice low, pitching it for Obi-Wan's ears only. "That's part of why I was sent here, part of why Master Qui-Gon Jinn was welcomed on Loreth, years ago. We could not let the Jed face the storm alone."

"Why are you whispering?" Obi-Wan asked her, casting glances in every direction. "Does Master Yoda know?"

"Shh!" Ryn warned, fighting tears of frustration. "I reported to the Jedi Council almost as soon as I arrived on Coruscant. They forbade me to speak of it to anyone else, even other Jedi. Perhaps they fear a panic; I cannot say. But you needed to know. If Anakin really is the Chosen One, you may have a more important part to play than any of us." She willed herself to hold back the tears. "The storm is coming, Obi-Wan," she whispered. "We stand in the shadow of the Apocalypse. You need to be ready."

[~]

Obi-Wan sat on a bench in the Healer's ward, deeply disturbed by his conversation with the girl currently being examined by Vokara Che. Not for a moment did he doubt that Ryn was in earnest. Her total conviction had permeated the Force, surrounding her with the unmistakeable, glowing aura of Truth. And Obi-Wan failed utterly to convince hmself that she was simply mistaken, letting her imagination run away with her. Ryn just wasn't that easily spooked. Before today, the only thing Obi-Wan had ever seen frighten her was the idea of Anakin in danger.

She'd covered it well, burying her fear under the intensity of her desire to warn him; but Obi-Wan hadn't missed the telltale white marks around her mouth that bespoke more than mere worry. The young woman who'd traveled across the galaxy to live in exile among the Jedi, who'd leapt through moving traffic to take down a man twice her size, and finally thrown herself several hundred meters down through Coruscant's bustling air-lanes without a second thought, was scared spitless.

It didn't take a Master to figure out that this was a bad sign.

When Ryn emerged, she looked calm again, reserved as ever, impressively in control of herself for a girl her age, even a Jedi, and Obi-Wan remembered that even though she was younger now than Amidala of Naboo had been when he'd first met her, Ryn had been a leader among her people for years.

That was an unsettling thought. What must it be like to go from being one of the elite, the most important, the most powerful people on an entire _planet_ , to being the servant of the Jedi Council, thousands of light-years from home?

Ryn smiled reassuringly at him, a princess in faded training pants, and Obi-Wan knew, suddenly, what she would answer, if he asked. _I am here to serve._

"The news is no worse than I thought," she said cheerfully, and Obi-Wan blinked at her, regrouping. "A lot of protein shakes for the next few weeks, and extra training to regain my muscle tone ... What?"

Obi-Wan had stood, and now he bowed. Reaching for her hand, he brought it to his lips and gently kissed the scabbed-over knuckles. He kept hold of her hand as he met her clear green eyes, shadows now with fatigue. Ryn looked mystified.

"You wouldn't be here if you had not risked your life to save my Padawan," Obi-Wan said, by way of explanation.

Ryn shrugged uncomfortably. "He'd have done it for me."

"Yes, I know. But I realized just now, something I should have noticed long ago." She looked a question at him. "You would have deserved it," Obi-Wan said softly, and squeezed her fingers lightly before releasing them. "I fear ... I have underestimated you, at times.  I am sorry for that." 

Ryn tilted her head to one side, regarding him with a quizzical smile. "Master Kenobi, are you growing maudlin on me?"

Obi-Wan smiled back. "Not at all. I just thought you should know. I ... you don't just talk about honor and self-sacrifice and unconditional love. You live them. And I wanted you to know ... it does make a difference."

Ryn leaned in and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, much to the surprise of a passing Padawan.

"Thank you," she told him, squeezing his arm briefly. "That means a great deal to me, coming from you. Now ..." She looked around the ward with a shudder. "What do you say we get out of here?"

  



	9. Guilty Sex Appeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No holds barred.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars.  I am not him, nor am I making any profit from this work of fan fiction.

 

**CHAPTER NINE:**

Given a not-too-spotty bill of health from Vokara Che, Ryn bade Obi-Wan farewell in the corridor, declining his polite offer of a game of knights.

"Another time, I hope," she said, and meant it. "This evening, if you are free. Just now I am very anxious to speak with Padawan Olin, and I believe I know where to find him."

"Tonight, then," Obi-Wan agreed. "Come around nineteen hundred and we'll have dinner."

"Nineteen hundred," Ryn echoed, and waved a goodbye.

She'd told him the truth: she _was_ anxious to speak with Ferus. And Obi-Wan must have guessed that it was about the spy in the garden, and the threat to Anakin's safety. But he couldn't possibly have known what she was thinking, or he would have stopped her.

She tracked Olin down in a training salle, fencing with Master Drallig.

_Predictable._

She leaned against the wall and folded her arms, waiting for Ferus to notice her.

It didn't take long, although it did give Ryn a chance to confirm what she'd suspected: Ferus moved as well as he looked, the pretty, athletic prince of the Jedi Order.

He looked damn good, too: not just chiseled, but fluid in his movements; there was a _rightness_ about Ferus that made him fun to watch.

Ryn felt a oddly disloyal thinking that way; it was common knowledge in the Temple that Padawans Olin and Skywalker didn't exactly get along as good Jedi should, being locked in some sort of unknowable rivalry.

_Unknowable, my ass. Alpha males._

Across the room, Ferus locked gazes with her and disengaged from Master Drallig, a second too late to avoid getting a swat on the thigh.

Ryn winced, but Ferus took it in stride.

She studied the young Jedi as he approached, and she saw him give her more than a casual perusal in return. He was nearly close enough to touch when she finally spoke.

"Nice," she said simply, nodding toward the blue mat that covered the training area. "Good form."

"Thanks," Ferus said, wiping at his forehead, and Ryn reached for the shelf at her elbow and handed him a towel.

"I never did thank you for catching me," she said, watching him put the towel to use on his face and bare chest.

"I didn't do a very good job," Ferus pointed out. "You still faded away in the infirmary. I've never seen a being fight so hard. I didn't know it was _possible._ "

"Yeah, I'm a trailblazer," Ryn said, shying away from the memory, echoes of pain sparking like electrical currents everywhere. _I did it. I hung on for him. That's what matters._

Except ... her body remembered the pain, the exhaustion, the relief of finally letting go.

The dark edge in Anakin's grief when she'd started to drift away.

She tried not to think about what she'd do if it happened again, or about the fact that someday, sooner or later, they'd lose each other anyway.

She shook off the remembered ache in her bones and said, "I was hoping we could talk."

Ferus eyed her warily, but she kept her expression neutral and her shields tight, giving nothing away.

"All right," he said finally. "You feel up to a walk?"

"Lead the way."

Olin took them out of the complex of training salles into a garden Ryn had seen before, but only visited with Master Yoda.

"Tell me how I can help," he said, settling into an easy gait down one of the paths.

"You can tell me everything you know about your master's investigation into our spy from the other night," Ryn said, falling into step beside him.

Ferus gave her a sidelong glance. "I'm relatively sure I'm not at liberty to discuss the details."

"So am I," Ryn said. "But I need to know. So I'm asking anyway."

Ferus frowned. "You're hoping I'll tell you because I feel guilty for not catching you in time."

"I'm hoping you'll tell me because it's the right thing to do," Ryn replied. "But if guilt is what works for you, I brought plenty."

Ferus turned a considering gaze on her. "I can't decide whether I find that admirable."

"You don't have to find it anything," Ryn said. "Just tell me what I want to know."

Ferus looked at her and sighed. "There isn't much to tell. The attacker you killed wasn't carrying any sort of identification, at least nothing we could discover when we recovered the body. The one who got away didn't leave a trail. Master Tachi is tracking down that friend of yours, the girl who visited the Temple a few weeks ago. Evinne."

Ryn realized she had stopped walking when Ferus turned and looked back at her, his eyes questioning.

"You contacted Evinne?"

"My master is trying," Ferus said. "Is that a problem?"

"I'm not sure," Ryn hedged, scrambling to regroup. "What is it that Master Tachi hopes to achieve by this?"

Ferus frowned at her. "Master Kenobi's report made it clear that she was a rogue. It makes sense to believe that she might have been involved."

"She's not a rogue," Ryn said, trying to keep her voice even. "What makes you think she might be connected?"

"She _was_ interested in the Chosen One, at least according to you."

"But Evinne is Yinang," Ryn pointed out, feeling out her depth with Ferus' conviction. Olin, like too many of the Jedi, was ready to explain but not to listen. "It wouldn't make any sense for her to want the Chosen One dead." Unhelpfully, she had found herself thinking along the same lines before now; but she couldn't make the pieces fit.

_Never mind that. Concentrate._

"I want in," she said decisively.

Ferus did a double-take and almost managed to cover it. "I'm sorry?"

Ryn put her hands on her hips and met his eyes squarely. "I want in. I want to be part of the investigation." Ferus shook his head, denial all over his face, but Ryn overrode whatever he was about to say. "If it weren't for me, there wouldn't even _be_ an investigation," she reminded him sternly. "I'm competent, I'm responsible, and I know more about non-allied Force-sensitives than anyone you've got."

"Master Tachi will never agree," Olin said, but Ryn could sense him weakening.

"So don't tell her," she said, moving closer, and watched with surprise as Ferus' eyes darkened, just a little.

_All right, new plan._

She shifted even closer, inside the Jedi's personal space, close enough that she could smell the spiciness beneath the drying sweat on his skin and he could smell her shampoo, which Ryn thought might be a little kinked, since in this case it was actually Anakin's shampoo that she'd used before leaving this morning.

_Oh, stang it, I have no idea how to do this ..._

"I need your help, Ferus," she said, looking up at him and trying to project something other than abject desperation, with limited success. "It's important that I work to unravel this mystery. I _need_ to do this, to make things right, to regain my inner balance."

Ferus looked lost for a long minute, gazing down into her face as though seeking answers there. Slowly his confused expression resolved into one of compassion.

He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, as close as most Jedi ever came to a hug. "I understand," he said. "Of course, I will do whatever I can to help you." His chiseled features clouded over. "It is the least I can do now. It is my fault that you must struggle with these feelings at all."

Denial came easy to Ryn's tongue, but she held back. If guilt made Ferus more inclined to do what she was asking, it was probably a bad idea to comfort him.

_So I have no morals. Wonderful._

They put their heads together and went over what Ferus knew, which wasn't much.

"All right," Ryn said, trying to push her own guilt aside to be dealt with later, "You've got nothing. Maybe it's time for a new approach."

Ferus looked wary. "Waht do you mean?"

"You're looking for a hairpin in a bog."

The Jedi frowned. "I'm not sure I understand your metaphor."

"Forget that." Ryn pushed her hair back back and focused her gaze on the spires of Coruscant, visible through the transparisteel panes that made up most of the wall here. "What I am saying is that you're combing Coruscant for one individual in a sea of a trillion. That's inefficient. Go to where non-Jedi Force-sensitives are likely to be, and then let him come to you. Narrow the field and then lure him in."

"Except we have no idea where that might be," Ferus said, the faintest hint of exasperation shading into his tone.

"You don't," Ryn said. "I might." Despite the gravity of the situation, she felt a flicker of satisfaction as Ferus blinked in surprise. She tapped a finger against her lips. "We can't go as Jedi, we'd be too obvious. We need disguises."

"Master Tachi can --"

"No," Ryn said at once. "Master Tachi has been a Jedi far too long. That level of training will be a HoloNet banner to every Force-sensitive we meet. Just you and me." She tilted her head back to look at him. "Can you do it?"

"If you can give me the address," Ferus said, and Ryn shook her head sharply.

"I'm coming with you."

"You're in no condition."

That was true.

"Tomorrow night. I'll be ready." She didn't like the idea of delaying, but she hated the thought of Ferus wrangling around, trying to be inconspicuous, on his own, even more. No good could come of that, she was sure.

She saw the objection on Ferus' face and put out a hand to forestall him. "Please, Ferus. You don't know that world. I do, at least a little. Let me do what I can."

Olin nodded slowly. "All right. I'll meet you in the mess at eighteen hundred tomorrow night. We'll eat and then leave together."

"Bring me something sexy to wear," Ryn said.

  



	10. Under Duress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morally ambiguous behavior.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars.  I am not him, nor am I making any profit from this work of fan fiction. 

 

 

**CHAPTER TEN:**

Ryn showed up early at the Kenobi-Skywalker quarters and helped Obi-Wan make supper while they waited for Anakin to come back from a training session with Master Drallig. He sparred with the best senior Padawans, always to their credit, but Ryn couldn't help wondering if Anakin would run into Ferus down there and somehow guess what was in the wind. She tried not to worry, tried to focus on her conversation with Master Kenobi, but she couldn't quite get comfortable, and it wasn't just the ache from her nearly-healed bones.

Washing vegetables, Ryn found herself in the middle of a conversation about Chandrilan erotic poetry, about which she'd known next to nothing until she'd stumbled across it while compiling a report on the Chandrilan Embassy on Coruscant, noticeably grown in size and importance since the Chandrilans installed a new, state of the art, bacta-equipped hospital -- not that the bacta was unusual, anywhere in the Core, but the Chandrilans had made some innovations in its use.

Obi-Wan, it seemed, was a long-time enthusiast of their poetry.

"You have to admire the restraint of it," he urged her, gray eyes bright, as he waved a knife for emphasis.

"I don't _have_ to do any such thing," Ryn countered, laughing a little at his earnestness. "You can't make me."

Obi-Wan chuckled back at her. "All right. But at least admit that it's better than that twaddle to come out of Ryloth."

"With pleasure," Ryn said, "which, by the way, is a Chandrilan erotic poem. And I don't mean that it's the title. It's the whole poem."

"Well," Kenobi said, "perhaps that one uses a bit too _much_ restraint."

Anakin stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of his presence washing over her. "Too much restraint?" he said, eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief. "I never thought I'd hear you say it."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Not for a Jedi, Anakin, for an erotic poem."

Anakin looked understandably perplexed. "What do _you_ know about erotic poetry, Master?"

Obi-Wan blushed faintly, much to Ryn's amusement. "If it is Chandrilan, plenty. I admire its restrained elegance."

"I knew you didn't mean that about too much restraint," Anakin said. "But now I have to ask: why the discussion of erotic poetry?"

"A Jedi should be well-versed in the products of the Republic's many cultures," Obi-Wan began, and Ryn shook her head at him and got out the stir-fry pan.

"Nonsense," she said. "You enjoy the aesthetics. Not everything needs a practical purpose, Master Kenobi."

She reached for the oil, but Anakin got there first and poured it in for her.

She flashed him a quick smile of thanks, and began tossing vegetables into the pan as he recapped the oil and set it on the shelf.

"Tell me about aesthetics," he said, as Obi-Wan moved past them to turn on the heat.

Ryn settled the pan in place and glanced at Kenobi to see whether he were going to respond.

_Guess not._

Ryn pushed an escaping lock of hair in the general direction of her braid. "Aesthetics is the beauty of art, and art for the sake of beauty."

Anakin looked over his shoulder as he got down a loaf of bread. "Why else would you make art?"

Ryn shrugged helplessly and looked to Obi-Wan, who tasted the sauce in his mixing bowl and sighed. "Too bland. Anakin, some beings maintain that art should serve some higher ethical purpose: to teach us something, or effect social or political change. This needs more pepper."

But Anakin was already reaching for the cutting board to chop the small spicy pepper in his left hand. "Then why not publish an instructional manual, or log a protest in the Senate?"

"Sometimes a piece of art can express an idea more effectively than either of those things," Obi-Wan said, stirring while he watched Anakin chop. "Just one should do, Anakin."

"Negative, Skywalker," Ryn said. "Let's innovate. Put one in here."

Anakin wasn't facing her, but Ryn could _feel_ his smirk, like a teasing sunbeam dancing between the leaves overhead. A fleeting memory rose: lying cushioned by moss, staring up through the branches on a rare sunny day in early spring. It was an old memory; she couldn't have been more than four at the time. Long enough ago that she hadn't yet felt the terror of helplessness. Long enough ago that she still believed someone would take care of her, that the universe was essentially a fair place.

There were no leaves to glow in the sunlight on Coruscant. At least, there was the arboretum, but the trees there, transplanted to a place that was a natural habitat of _nothing_ , didn't feel like trees. They never quite seemed real to her. They weren't _connected_ to anything, not part of a forest. Just trees, doing their best to live outside their natural element.

Not, she noted, unlike Anakin.

"Yes, Master. Yes, milday," he was saying now. He moved to lean over Ryn's shoulder and sprinkle tiny bits of pepper into the pan, and Ryn stretched up on her toes to brush an unexpected, feather-light kiss along his jaw.

"You have my undying gratitude," she said, smirking, and Anakin laughed before going back to his chopping.

Obi-Wan pretended not to notice.

"I think it seems sneaky to use art to make a point," Anakin said to his master, and Ryn glanced over in time to see the older Jedi shrug.

"If it works ..." he said.

 _Way to teach ethics,_ Ryn thought.

She felt Anakin's confusion, but before she could think of anything to say that wouldn't just muddy the waters, he had moved on to his next question.

"So what's the point of an erotic poem?"

Ryn turned her back on the stir-fry to watch Obi-Wan flounder.

"I ... well, it's ... poets like to use metaphor."

Anakin looked at Ryn, who shrugged.

"Don't ask me," she said. "I'm not the one who thought poetry had to be practical."

"You know, for someone who apparently reads a lot of it, you take a narrow view of poetry's meaning," Obi-Wan said crossly.

Ryn turned back to the stir fry, moving it around with the large shallow wooden spoon Kenobi had picked up somewhere along the way. "That seems fair."

"You're not going to defend yourself?" Anakin asked, passing Obi-Wan a finely minced pepper.

"What for?" Ryn said. "It's true. I don't intend to change, and I am unlikely to alter Master Kenobi's opinion. So why argue?"

"Forget arguing," Obi-Wan said. "Take that stir-fry off the element before it scorches."

Ryn played two rounds with Obi-Wan after supper and then left, even though the night was still young and there was something nice about sitting in the Kenobi-Skywalker living area, playing cards with Obi-Wan in the floor while Anakin dismantled or reassembled (it was hard to tell which) something mechanical-looking at the low table Coruscanti apparently favored in their living rooms.

Something was bothering Anakin: she could _feel_ him, simmering at the edges of her consciousness, like a storm building rotation. Besides, working with machinery with no apparent goal was Skywalker Code for I'm Thinking: Leave Me Alone. He'd brought the jumble of parts and wires out of his room, evidently in deference to the fact that she was there; but he was so manifestly trying to hide his lack of calm that Ryn didn't feel right asking him about it.

So she left early, as much to get some rest herself as to give him some space, and gave him a quick squeeze on the shoulder on her way out the door, restraining herself from sending him waves of comfort because she didn't want to bring Obi-Wan's attention to his distress if Anakin wanted to keep it quiet. There was every chance that Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to read him as well or as easily as she had; she wasn't sure how strong or deep the intimacy between them went, but from the first she'd sensed an uneasy dance there, and she didn't want to disrupt the delicate balance that kept them gracefully partnered together. But Anakin must have known what she was thinking, because he looked up at the last second and gave her a quick, grateful smile before returning to whatever he was trying to fix.

A pounding on her door woke Ryn in the dead of night. She stiffened, hand reaching for her lightsaber, trying to get a sense of who was on the other side of the door.

A quietly contained presence, with an edge of alertness: not Anakin, but who else would come to see her at this time of night? Who else would _come_ to see her at all, instead of merely summoning her to attend?

She followed the trajectory of some internal gravity to Anakin anyway, just in case, and found him smiling in his sleep, dreaming about the small, brown-haired young woman with the gentle eyes who had to be Padmé. Ryn automatically stamped on the flash of pain this knowledge brought her: there was nothing she could do about it, and it wasn't likely to help her in this particular situation, regardless.

_Until the possible becomes actual, it is only a distraction._

So who was at the door?

There was one way to find out. Ryn rolled to her feet and crossed the room to hit the door release.

Ferus Olin met her eyes. "Evinne Ardel is here, and she's asking for you." His gaze dropped below her neckline and he closed his eyes. "Clothes might be good."

Ryn looked down at herself, wearing her underwear in deference to the local custom of not sleeping completely nude. She hadn't quite been able to make herself adopt the habit of keeping a separate set of clothes just for sleeping, yet. She bit back a comment on the general inefficiency of such a custom and stood aside to let Ferus in.

"Come in while I get dressed," she said.

She scooped up her clothes and carried them to the small refresher to put them on before Ferus killed himself with not gawking. It seemed to be taking a lot out of him.

She threw on her chest support and miniskirt in record time and came out of the refresher barefoot, still adjusting her midriff-baring top.

"Brief me," she said, reaching for her boots.

Ferus didn't know much more than he'd said when he arrived. Evinne had appeared in one of the docking bays about twenty minutes before and asked to see Ryn Orun. But Master Tachi had been in the area, on her way to go do some ineffective searching, probably, and immediately claimed Evinne as her personal interest. Apparently, Evinne was injured, but Mater Tachi was refusing to take her to the infirmary until she answered questions, and Evinne was refusing to answer any questions until she had talked to Ryn.

 _Just hell,_ Ryn thought, and walked faster.

She entered the Tachi-Olin quarters a beat ahead of Ferus, who'd paused to hit the door release (a sensible precaution), and found Siri Tachi standing glowering over a slumped, bloodied figure with bright golden hair that resonated brightly in the Force, with a sharp edge of anger that stirred Ryn's psychic senses.

"Ardel!" she snapped, appealing to Evinne's duty as a militiawoman as the fastest way to get her talking. "Report!"

Evinne pulled herself to a slightly more upright position on the couch and squinted at Ryn through the eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"Shorty?" she asked, her voice thready, and Ryn spun to Ferus and barked, "Water!" before refocusing on Evinne.

"I'm here, Evinne. What is it you had to tell me?"

Evinne shook her head weakly, and Ryn took the cup of water out of Ferus' hand without looking and knelt in front of the couch to wrap Evinne's battered hands around it.

"Tell me what you know," she urged; but Evinne shook her head again.

"Just ... you," she whispered, weaving in place.

Ryn put one knee on the floor and swiveled to lock gazes with Tachi and jerk her chin toward the door.

Tachi opened her mouth to protest, but Ryn narrowed her eyes, just a little, letting the barest sliver of her contempt show.

" _Later,"_ she said, weighting the word with the sense of command she'd learned -- earned -- in the militia, and Tachi, perhaps not used to such a direct challenge, or maybe just seeing that she was on shaky ground, took a step back and then turned and went out into the hallway, taking Ferus with her.

Ryn turned back to evinne. "They'll be back," she said. "Better not lose any time."

Evinne nodded and swayed, but Ryn had a hand on each arm, steadying her.

"The Chosen One," she whispered. "He's in danger."

 _Anakin,_ Ryn thought, fear rising in her throat. She pushed it ruthlessly down. "What danger? From whom?"

She was pulled forward as Evinne slumped back against the cushions.

"They call themselves the Blades of Light," Evinne said softly. "They believe ... if they kill the Chosen One, they can prevent him from bringing balance to the Force. They are ... hunting him. I know you know ... who he ... is. Protect the ... Chosen One. Save ... save us all."

"I"m going to try," Ryn promised, hearing Yoda's admonition even as she said it. _There is no try._ "What can you tell me about their numbers, organization, home base?"

"Not ... much," Evinne rasped. "But they have some ... good fighters, and I think they're well-equipped. They have ... been planning this for a while."

Ryn gripped her shoulders a little harder. "Can you think of anything else? Anything at all?"

Evinne shook her head and let out a little keening moan. "Terch," she whispered. "He stayed and fought so I could get away, so I could warn you. But I ... _I left him there._ I left him ... there. He's ... a good man, Ryn, he is. A good man. Kind. We could have ... but I left him there."

"Shh," Ryn said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "Shh. You did what you had to do. You did what you could. Terch understood that, or he wouldn't have stayed so you could go."

She had no way of knowing that, of course. But it sounded plausible, and Evinne's grief and guilt were wounds more serious than any of her physical injuries, and when the tight knight of pain the that kept Evinne shuddering inside loosened just the tiniest fraction, Ryn felt she had done the right thing. Helped, just a little bit.

She eased Evinne back on the cushions and stalked over to the door and slapped the release with a lot more energy than it required. Ferus she ignored, putting herself toe-to-toe with Siri Tach instead.

"Tell me," she bit out, furious and not bothering to hide it, "where is the Jedi compassion in refusing medical care to an injured woman within the halls of the Temple itself?"

"She was in no danger of dying," Tachi said, her voice holding firm, but Ryn saw the flicker of defensiveness in her eyes.

 _You don't have a leg to stand on, and you know it. You screwed up._ "It doesn't matter. She is in severe pain. By withholding treatment you are essentially torturing her for information."

Tachi reddened, but Ryn had felt the chink in her armor; out there in the hall, she'd had time for second thoughts.

So Ryn shifted her gaze to Ferus. "Go get Master Yoda and Master Kenobi," she said, "and meet us in the infirmary. We will be there shortly."

She went back inside without waiting for a response.

 


End file.
